Empty nest comedies have been around forever, charting the sometimes-hilarious, sometimes-heartbreaking transition parents go through when their kids move on.  Suze takes that familiar premise and gives it a fresh, sharply observed spin, carried by a phenomenal performance from Michaela Watkins.  Written and directed by Linsey Stewart and Dane Clark, this Canadian indie gem doesn’t just ride on its clever setup—it thrives on sincerity and wit, delivering a deeply satisfying watch.

Divorced mom Susan (Watkins, You Hurt My Feelings) has spent years devoted to raising her daughter Brooke (Sara Waisglass), only to find herself unmoored when Brooke heads off to college without so much as a glance back.  That’s when Gage (Charlie Gillespie, Totally Killer), Brooke’s boyfriend—well-meaning but aimless, clinging to optimism despite his uncertain future—winds up staying with Susan (whom he affectionally calls Suze; you can tell by her slight wince that she’s long accepted this casual moniker) when Brooke dumps him via text and he lands in the hospital after trying to jump off a water tower.  What could have been a predictable odd-couple scenario quickly turns into something richer: a thoughtful, unexpectedly touching exploration of identity, purpose, and human connection.

One of the film’s smartest moves is how it handles Gage.  He’s not played as a clueless punchline but as a fully realized character whose wide-eyed earnestness is an asset, not a flaw.  Stewart and Clark understand that charm isn’t just about quippy dialogue—it’s about believability.  Gillespie nails that balance, delivering a swoon-worthy performance that feels genuine rather than exaggerated.  His dynamic with Watkins is the heartbeat of the film, evolving from her wariness to his go-with-the-flow attitude to something resembling an unconventional but heartfelt bond.   If you haven’t fallen for him by the time he starts to sing a classic Roxette tune, then there’s no hope for you.

Watkins, long an expert at scene-stealing in supporting roles (most recently in the slasher Heart Eyes), finally gets a lead part that showcases her full range.  She’s dryly hilarious, exasperated but never mean-spirited and capable of slipping into deeply emotional beats without an ounce of melodrama.  Suze’s arc—learning to exist for herself rather than through others—follows familiar territory, but Watkins makes it feel entirely her own.  The script wisely allows space for quiet introspection, letting her character’s growth emerge naturally rather than forcing it through exposition.

The supporting cast is equally well-utilized.  Aaron Ashmore makes the most of his screen time as Gage’s dope of a father, while Rainbow Sun Francks, as a potential love interest for Suze and Sandy Jobin-Bevans as her ex-husband, add humor and depth in smaller roles.  Even brief characters like Ajahnis Charley as a night school friend of Gage feel rounded out in a short span of time, which again goes back to the filmmakers’ sharp observational writing.

Visually, Suze keeps things understated, but that works in its favor.  The Canadian setting isn’t overly emphasized or ignored—it just is, adding to the film’s lived-in authenticity.  The direction is confident yet unobtrusive, letting the performances and writing shine without unnecessary embellishments.  There are no forced montages or overplayed comedic beats, just a well-paced, naturally unfolding story that trusts its audience to follow along.   

What makes Suze stand out is its willingness to embrace the messy, nonlinear nature of personal growth.  Rarely does a comedy strike this perfect balance between humor and emotional depth.   It understands that the people who change our lives aren’t always the ones we expect and that moving forward doesn’t mean erasing the past.  It’s a film about rediscovering yourself in the aftermath of change—funny, heartfelt, and refreshingly real.  Stewart and Clark have crafted something special, and in Watkins and Gillespie, they’ve found a duo worth revisiting again and again.